Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

July 23, 2020July 22, 2020Michael 6 Comments

My exile from WordPress Comment Land (Wopecommelandia) continues. There’s been so much on so many blogs so worthy of comments but all I can do is “like.” I thought about writing a post of all the comments I have written that were suck into Wopecommelandia’s atmosphere but couldn’t come up with an effective way of keeping context. So instead I decided to comment on life. Or death.

The paper here ran this headline Tuesday.

Death of Woman Whose Body was Found Stuffed Into Refrigerator Ruled Homicide

It did what headlines are supposed to do and piqued my interest. Sometime in the early 1980s the New York Post ran a headline that has become legendary among tabloid headlines. “Headless Body in Topless Bar” made it clear that was no accident. I shouldn’t have had to read the local article to be as convinced this was not an accident either but I pushed on. The first sentence certainly convinced me. The woman “whose body was found partially dismembered inside an abandoned refrigerator left in the hallway of an apartment building in May, has been ruled a homicide.” I wonder if it was the partial dismemberment that convinced them. And it only took 2 months.

Maybe those headlines stirred something in my memory. I did a little digging and found it!

Man’s Death During Sex Ruled ‘Workplace Accident’

The article sourcing a BBC report of a Times of London story about a French railway technician for TSO Rail while in Meung-sur-Loire France died of cardiac arrest while having sex with a woman he had just met. The company’s lawyers argued it was not liable because the accident occurred not while he was engaged in a work related activity. The court ruled that French workers on business trips are “entitled to their employer’s protection for the duration of their mission … whether or not the accident takes place as part of a professional activity or as an act of normal life” and sex is an act of normal life. So the widow (yes, he was married), gets 80% of his salary until he would have retired and then an unspecified portion of his pension. Better than alimony.

Since deaths, and now death headlines, come in three, this is a good place to stop. Feel free to comment. If you can. Darn Wopecommelandia!

Calling All Comments

April 23, 2020April 23, 2020Michael Leave a comment

I swear I’m being singled out for some punishment for an infraction I am unaware of. Either that or I (more likely) have done something to my WordPress account without realizing it. You probably wouldn’t have noticed because I’m not a terribly often commentor although when I do I tend to be a verbose commentor, but now I’ve become a non-commentor. Actually I was made a non-commentor but I don’t know who did the making although something tells me it could have been me.

I think this might have started around Christmas. I commented on somebody’s post and I would typically get some reaction but I didn’t. I’m sure I didn’t think much about that because it was the holidays and everybody’s life gets a little busier then. It was probably a couple weeks after that I did again and again I didn’t and then I thought “hmmm.” Then yet again and again not and then for sure I thought “well isn’t that the darnedest thing.”

So I explored and discovered the comment I thought with which I commented wasn’t there. And it wasn’t here either. I reentered it carefully making certain to not inadvertently use any forbidden language, the hit the proper keys, then hit the proper keys properly, and then again. . . not there.

I was recieving comments. I could respond to comments I received. But I couldn’t and as of yesterday still can’t leave comments. I can live with that as long as you can but it is curious.

Now this all has more than just something to do with my inability to express my sentiments over your writing within the WordPress World. (Of course it does.) I was thinking how nice it would be if 99% of the people who comment to news articles in the various interwebs would also have their comments disappear into the miasma.

You know I prefer printed newspapers over their electronic counterparts but many printed papers aren’t printing either because of limited advertising revenue or limited staffing during the pandemic or just because they don’t want to any more. The thing with the old fashioned printed papers, if you wanted to expand or expound, to clarify or question, or to take umbrage or offense with an article or editorial (back when they were different), you had to pull out the pen and paper or typewriter (Google it) or the word processor and printer, formulate your thoughts, convert your thoughts to writing, consider what you wrote, decide it was worth the price of postage, then put it in an envelope and mail it. Thus a letter to the editor. Typically a well thought, well worded, intelligent letter to the editor.

Today, any idiot with a phone, and today every idiot has a phone, can spout out whatever drivel it feels like spouting and “comment” on articles long before it starts thinking. Then some other jackass starts commenting on the comments and then were off to the races. It used to be a source of amusement reading the churlish ramblings of people who clearly failed blocks in kindergarten and hadn’t progressed much since, trying to make what I’m sure they feel are intelligent arguments. Or at least arguments. Today it’s just mean name calling and demonstrations of hatred.

I wish news outlets would do away with the comment option but then some new idiot would say that’s infringing on the freedom of speech. So I am exercising my freedom to not listen and I’m not reading them. I’ve found as a result that I’m happier, my stomach doesn’t get so easily upset, my gums aren’t bleeding, and I swear my hair is coming back.

And to keep things fair, I won’t be writing any comments myself. At least I won’t to any papers using WordPress for their distribution.

Technologically Repressed

June 24, 2019Michael 5 Comments

We’ve talked tech before. I’ve even admitted that I’m fine with many of the advancing technologies we have and continue to come up with, but there are a couple things I wish we hadn’t invented. Or at least not gone for in such a big way.

This really all started with a conversation I had with my daughter, a not quite 30 year old who makes her living only because we have tech-evolved as much as we have yet still hangs on to these few things from my past.

PDA devices and apps versus planners/calendars.

Planners are called planners because that’s what they do. They plan. Or help you plan.

This is what started our conversation. When I was discharged from the hospital I was sent on my way with home nursing and physical and occupational therapies. I had gotten off the phone with one of the home care givers and trying to sort out who was coming when. I had everybody’s visits, along with doctors’ appointments and dialysis sessions loaded into my electronic scheduler and that synced with my Amazon Echo to remind me each morning what was happening that day. (I told you I was okay with some new tech.) But it was only after I opened the actual calendar looking page of the calendar wannabe program did I realize that I had all three disciplines coming the same day and a total of 5 commitments over two days. My “assistant” gladly accepted the suggested dates and times knowing there were not overlaps but didn’t warn me of not only adjacent scheduling but of overwhelming (for me) scheduling. My daughter reminded me if I just used a book style planner or at least a page out of a calendar I could have seen at a glance that I was getting in too deep for the middle of the week. I would have sent her to bed without her supper but it is her house and she was cooking.

The point is, there are some things a calendar does better than all the electronic schedulers out there. Hung on a wall with nice big squares for each day, a calendar is still the best guarantee to efficient planning.

GPS versus an atlas or paper maps

No argument that for getting from Point A to Point B celestial guidance is the way to go. But when you want to know just where those points are in this great big world or what’s at Point A1, A2, and so forth, start unfolding that paper.

Anybody who uses GPS for directions for any appreciable time will run into problems. By problems I mean lost. Undocumented construction, flooded roads, accident clean up crews, or over height semis wedged in tunnel entrances or under overpasses turn Little Miss Turn By Turn into a one phrase wonder – recalculating, recalculating, recalculating.

Am I the only one who wonders after making a turn and hearing “travel north for 8 and 1/2 miles” to the next turn what I’m missing in those 8 and 1/2 miles? The on screen “map” clearly displays the traveled road in all its exact scale-ness but nothing around it. No town names, no points of interest, no “world’s largest ball of twine!” a mere hope skip, and jump at the third intersection to the right.

There is no better way to getting un-lost than to pull out an old fashioned map and see what landmarks are nearby or road names or route numbers that look familiar. Those same maps display a bounty of options that go around those unexpected obstacles. Only with maps can you take in the whole picture of the places around you.

Keep that GPS app on your phone. It has its place. This is a big country connected by oodles of 8 and 1/2 mile stretches. Some of them are pretty interesting places but sometimes you have to get off the the highlighted route to find them.

Music downloads versus LPs, CDs, even cassette tapes

I get it. You like a song, you want a song, you buy a song. No muss, no fuss, no waste. And no experimenting with songs from a the B Side. Not to mention all the great stuff on an album that never gets air time…if you can still call where they play “air.”

Beyond the songs that go unheard are the stories you found on the printed material – the album jackets and the CD inserts. If the songs of an album told a story, the liner notes painted the picture. Sometimes with a collage of real pictures. (You remember pictures. They are those things you call “images” but you don’t need a phone to see.) Often the notes even included the lyrics so there was never an excuse for belting out “Welcome to the land of flaming sex!” at a red light.

News sites verses newspapers

Printing material is expensive. Delivering printed material is expensive. Recycling printed material is sometimes more work than I really care to do. Still I’d rather pay for and read a paper held in my hands (on spread across the table) than read an article on line. Why?

I’m not so stuck in the old ways that I’ll say I prefer a real paper because “I like the feel of it in my hands” although that argument might work with books. I prefer the paper because I get more news out of it. Think of this. You get your “paper” on line probably through an morning email that says today’s “paper” is out there along with a handful of headlines with the articles’ first few sentences. So you scan those, see a few that are interesting and check them out. You read that one article led by whomever wrote the morning email and you click your way back to the email to maybe read one or two more in the came fashion. If you see that same headline on hard copy, you notice it, you read it, you follow the article to its “continued on page,” where you notice another headline or maybe a picture that looks interesting or complements the article you just finished. You read that one and the pattern continues. Soon you are turning pages, reading commentaries, arguing with letters to the editor, laughing at the comics, not believing the comeback the home team made in the 11th inning.

People who says “I can get all the news on line” might but never really do. What news they read is often because somebody else decided that was the news they should read.

So there you have it. My wishes for things that wouldn’t go away. Not because I’m old and set in my ways even though I am old and can be set in my ways, but because they are just plain better. Because I say so is why. Sheesh. Kids today!

Just Because You Can

July 2, 2018Michael 5 Comments

This morning Best Buy announced they will no longer sell CDs in their stores. Vinyl yes, polycarbonate no. Apparently those who had normally opted for the shiny discs are now more likely to download or stream music to their hand held devices.

Last week the local paper announced that in August they will be dropping the print version of the paper from seven days a week to five. Apparently everybody wants their news electronically. This particular paper has not only its news website but two different apps for reading on mobile devices.

When Apple told us they had just the thing for that (with their trademarked and copywrited slogan (copywrit? copywrote?)), did they know they would release an app to reduce mobile dependency 9 years later? In fact, their app for that is only the latest in a string of such aids to reduce our electronic jonesing.

No, I’m not going to embark on a rampage decrying the ever presence of mobile devices in people’s hands. For the most part, I personally would rather hold a paper in my hands for perusal, especially now that they’ve resolved the inky finger problem, and though I never really got the hang of transferring a song from “somewhere out there” to what I still call “the phone,” I think we’ve done well in miniaturizing and availing technology to the masses. Even I am more likely to read the morning paper on my tablet out on the patio and I actually have a collection of favorites in my music folder in “the phone” (thanks to the daughter’s doing). Still, there are some things that shouldn’t completely replace the older hard copy iterations.

Triptik For example, if you have a cell phone any less than say six years old you likely have a GPS mapping program at your fingertips. When I was traveling for work I appreciated my locating and traffic apps. I’d step out of an airport that looked quite like the airport I departed from, got into a rental car that look quite like the one I returned in a city earlier, and navigate to a hospital that looked suspiciously like one I visited the previous day on roads that held no resemblance to anywhere I’d even been. Yet I never got lost. My “phone” always knew where I was and which way to go.

But even knowing exactly where I was I never had a sense of roughly where I was. Years ago I’d use AAA “Triptiks” to navigate to a specific place. They were flip chart looking collections of mini-maps that specified your travel along highlighted roads. But I also always had my guidebooks and atlas so that at stops I could get a feel for what lay beyond the margins of the designated route. How else could you know that the world’s largest ball of twine was just 50 miles around the next bend, a drop in the mileage bucket when you’re already 1800 miles from home? You don’t get that from GPS.

So although I hope atlases never go away and that I’ll always have a CD player in my car so I have something to listen to while I search for the second largest cactus shaped like a tea pot, I can still appreciate the electronic versions. Now if only the proponents of those would please leave my paper and plastic alone we can live together in peace.

You’ve Got Mail. ish.

July 6, 2017July 5, 2017Michael 5 Comments

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve had three friends go on vacation. One to the other side of the world, one to the other side of the country, and one to the other side of her back porch. I don’t know if any of them were where sloths are indigenous but I do know that all of them swore off electronic communication of any kind while they were out of country, state, and office.

I also know that upon their returns, all of them swore they will never do that again. Apparently it took each of them as much as a full week to sift through email, Twitter and Instagram feeds, and Facebook posts. Email the worst.

I’m not a big vacationer. Other than a couple of longish trips over the last 45 years my vacations were mostly long weekends or 2 days jaunts. Before that my parents were responsible for recreational trips and mostly I remember being in the back seat of a large Chevrolet with no air conditioning during the two hottest weeks of the year. Probably why I now tend to vacation in the fall. Now by the time anybody realizes I am gone, I’m back home. The long trips that I did take were so long ago that snail mail was still a catchy way of denigrating the US Postal Service and my catch-up phase amounted to retrieving the mail and newspaper from the next door neighbor and dropping off some salt water taffy, moon pies, or beignet mix in exchange for being my personal drop box for a handful of bills and a flyer advertising the local department store’s weekend long one day sale. Catching up on hundreds of hundreds of emails wasn’t part of my routine. (The thousands of thousands of work generated emails accumulated over the rare day off don’t count. And they were easy to sort through anyway. Unless it came from someone who signed my paycheck or annual evaluation, they were quickly deleted.)

So the thought of having to take vacation time so I could catch up with correspondence that came in while I was off using vacation time is not something I would entertain. But it’s not something I would scoff at either. I wouldn’t entertain it because I haven’t had to entertain it. I’m not sure that I have that large of a friend base. But if you can accumulate a few hundred unanswered emails and again as many messages on this or that feed in a few days that means someone wanted you at least a few hundred times over those few days. I think that’s very cool. And pretty positive too.

Sloth For me though, I’m probably pretty safe going off grid and coming back to not much more than a full spam folder with which I’ve had lots of practice in dealing (see work emails above). I will offer my mail and newspaper pickup services to anybody planning a trip if you still get hard copy papers and mail sent with a stamp. But if you expect me to pick up your mail and papers while you’re away for a month in the Brazilian rain forest I’m going to want more than a box of chocolate mini World Cup candies. You can at least bring me a mechanical sloth.